A Very Doctor Christmas
by queen.ravenclaw
Summary: Oh Amelia Pond! how he loved that girl. Madge was right, family was always family, after all. He peered out the bright blue front door, smiling at the glowing police box that awaited him. Family, always.
1. Surprise Visitor

**So, this takes place right after "The Doctor, The Widow, and The Wardrobe", in which the Doctor arrives at Amy's doorstep for a Christmas dinner. **

"Are you all settled in then?" Rory grumbled, a slight frown between his eyebrows, to which the Doctor, of course, paid no attention.

"Think so," the Doctor laughed, high-fiving Amy, who was putting the finishing touches on the place.

"Right then, _son_, you've got your own room now," Amy smiled, wrapping an arm around Rory's waist.

The Doctor looked around delightedly. He had specifically asked the Ponds to clear out their guest room so he could move in. Although Rory looked rather mystified when the Doctor rolled out the fold-up bed, he sat back and watched his wife move his son-in-law in.

The room, a soft tan color, now had a hammock, for some strange reason, dangling from the rafters, and a fluffy burgundy rug spread across the floor. The walls, bare for now, had the Doctor's promise to be covered with maps and diagrams. However, nothing else could be found in the sparsely used guest room except for a gleaming blue police box, that seemed to twinkle even brighter than normal under the golden light of the chandelier. One of its doors was slightly ajar, out of which popped a rather wide foot clothed in dark blue socks.

The Doctor popped out excitedly, a large smile wreathed across his face. "Oh, my old girl likes being indoors. All her wiring's gone screwy, of course, but it'll adjust. Consider it travel sickness."

"Well, aren't you going to take your things out then?" Amy beckoned. "Your sciencey-wiency tools and modules..." She fell silent at the look on the Doctor's face.

"Amy," he said gently, placing his hands on her shoulders, "you mustn't get comfortable with this idea of me moving in. The Doctor does not stay places, and you know that."

"I know," she complained, pulling the Doctor into a hug, "I know that more than you do. But stay - please? Consider it a holiday - for Christmas!"

The Doctor laughed quietly. "Do you think I get holidays, Amelia?"

She pulled away, smiling wryly.

Rory decided this would be a good moment to interject, "Oh, and did we mention, our daughter's promised to try and pop in for the holidays?"

The Doctor suddenly stiffened, hands flitting nervously to his bow tie. "Your - your daughter now?" He cleared his throat nervously.

Amy winked, then fell back, revolted. "Oh gods, I can't think about this. My daughter... and my best friend... Oh god..."

The Doctor chuckled. "Don't worry," he began, twirling about and kicking open the TARDIS doors, "we'll keep quiet about it. We're not exactly the average couple, are we?"


	2. Kitchen Nightmares

**It's part two, y'all! Read and review :D**

The Doctor fell silent, staring at the bright blue placemat laid out on the Ponds' table. Wordlessly, he traced his fingers across the embroidered word, DOCTOR, stitched neatly in white writing. His fingers continued their path across the ornate porcelain plate and glass, a small napkin neatly tucked underneath. The Doctor's lips twitched, but no words came out. His throat got that funny, itchy feeling he'd felt before again.

"Hey," a familiar kind voice whispered behind him. "Want to help us cook?"

"Oh Amy," the Doctor smiled, turning around. "It's what I do best."

Rory stared, aghast, at his Doctorified kitchen. For a few moments, he could do nothing but open and close his mouth repeatedly, staring at the cabinets covered in flour, the eggshells scattered across the floor, the turkey hanging from the light fixture on the ceiling, the chocolate syrup doodles on the walls. His eyes flashed to the unrepentant grinning Doctor, who was covered from head to toe in various foods and sauces, then to an equally shameless Amy, whose hair appeared to have been combed with an eggbeater.

Finally Rory managed, "Are we ordering out then?"

The Doctor scoffed. "Why would you do that? We're almost done with the cooking! Here," and he tossed a pinchful of some brown spice at Rory's hair. Unfortunately, aim was not the Doctor's forte, and most of it ended up in Rory's eyes.

Eyes immediately watering, Rory sputtered, "That... that was cinnamon... you..." He blinked rapidly, tears shining on his cheeks, then screamed, "GET ME TO THE TAP, SOMEONE!"

The Doctor flushed. Rory might have his faults, but no one deserved to be pelted with cinnamon on Christmas. "Not to worry, Rory the Roman, I've found that marmalade does quite the trick with eyesores - Amy, the marmalade?"

Amy, desperately trying to stifle her giggles, quickly snatched a jar of the stuff from the minuscule refrigerator and began rubbing it on Rory's face with two fingers.

The Doctor wrinkled his nose. "Control it, you two, this doesn't need to turn into something... never mind. Just, Amy, just keep at it until the burning subsides. Then Rory should be perfectly fine, albeit sticky."

"Hoo wong shwud dus tahe?" Rory's muffled voice questioned through the marmalade.

"Erm, either two minutes, or two decades. Whichever one comes first. Now then," and the Doctor clapped his hands, "the turkey should be done roasting. Someone, I'll need a ladder, two large sledgehammers, a bottle of raspberry cider, and a bright pink apron."


	3. Dinner with the Doctor

Thankfully, Rory's eyes resumed normal vision in the quicker of the two estimates, and with a quick shower and quite a few mollifying kisses from Amy, the man quickly resumed his Christmas cheer.

Amy, after more than a few glances in the mirror, decided that flour-coated cheeks brought out her eyes and merely changed into a decidedly unflattering Christmas jumper and jeans.

The Doctor however, was not cleaned so easily. But luckily, it turns out that three showers, a good scrubbing, and an ear cleaning takes roughly the same amount of time as it does to roast a turkey. So, in a good half hour, the Doctor had Amy's oaken table groaning, heaped with food. The notorious turkey, various puddings, steaming fresh rolls, salad, spaghetti, juices, coffee, and a bottle of what appeared to be wine - they somehow all managed to fit on one round table meant for two.

Amy laughed. "Doctor, there's no way you could have made all of this."

The Doctor turned around, offended. Shrugging off his apron, which had miraculously stayed spotless despite the enormous amount of food being carted from kitchen to table, he retorted, "It might have looked like a mess to your weak human eyes; perhaps you're susceptible to a low-level perception filter that's coated this house for ages, but I merely used the mess as a distraction so I could surprise you with all this!" He waved ecstatically towards the table.

Rory nodded skeptically. "Or... you were just making a mess in our kitchen for no good reason, and then you went back in time and made all of this."

The Doctor stuck out his tongue and pulled up a chair. "All right, all right, enough chit chat. Let's eat!"

The trio sat back in their chairs, utterly content. Rory leaned back, hands clasped behind his head, eyes closed peacefully. Amy, struck silent for once, merely folded a spare napkin into assorted birds. The Doctor, however, appeared to have become even more excited than usual, rambling on about the last time he'd had a Christmas dinner with some family called the Tylers - Amy was too drowsy to pay proper attention.

Eventually the Doctor ceased his chatter, noticing his friends' quietude. He smiled a small smile to himself and busied himself with clearing away the dishes. _Like a good child_, he thought,_ how domestic._

When he returned, Amy and Rory looked slightly more energetic.

"Oh, lookie there, you're alive!" he grinned.

"Doctor," Rory began, "that was quite honestly the best cooking I've ever had." He flashed a sidelong guilty look at Amy, who raised an eyebrow, then shrugged.

"Quite honestly, I agree," she said whole-heartedly.

The Doctor beamed. "Oh stop it, you two. I'm just proud you didn't faint halfway through. Time Lord cuisine is no joke. I'm willing to bet my bowtie you two don't even know the names of half the spices in these dishes, and they are quite, quite powerful. In fact, last time I cooked - for Virginia Woolf - she passed out stone cold! Oh, look, more sentences I should just throw away," he added hastily, as Amy's and Rory's eyes widened in shock. "Not to worry, not to worry, you're strong people, you'll be fine. Just... maybe don't drink any more cider if you feel woozy, all right?" Contrite, he pulled a bottle off the table and stowed it away in his pockets. When Amy and Rory looked none too reassured, the Doctor changed subject. "Tell you what, let's let me make you a good cup of tea, eh? And with completely Earthen ingredients, too. Well, maybe not entirely. But, well, let's see now."

And he bustled off with the last of the dishes, leaving a stricken Rory and an Amy with one of those oh-well-he's-our-last-of-the-time-lord-son-in-law-what-do-you-expect expressions.


End file.
